Long Kennels Poems
Long Kennels Poems. Below are the most popular long Kennels by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Kennels poems by poem length and keyword.
A beauty veiled yet shining bright
So lovely in my life
Your angel soft lips speak grace I long to kiss
I ache for the day our embrace breaks into tears, hugs, and the warmth we’ve waited for
May God guide our path to purity; until that day arrives, let our hearts grow into one flesh, a destiny written only by His hand
My heart was gambit for circling jackals at my heels while the lone wolf walked in the lamb’s soft light; their pride swelling like prized dogs preening in deceitful kennels, and grievance winds struck my chest, a cold shot to the spirit that once offered itself freely
Before you, I swam through madness, betrayed by those who dimmed my worth. I wished our paths had crossed sooner, for the present might shine differently and bliss might rest more gently on us. Yet now we stand with a bond so rare it speaks only between souls and the Divine, and you alone carry the weight of the words that rise before an eternal covenant blessed by God.
871522375996
The foolish dogs, wag their tails for the fiend,
They lick the fiend, from head to toe,
The foolish dogs, coil like snails, at the site of the enemy.
The foolish dogs, bark and do not bite,
They bark at the fiend, and never chase when he runs,
The foolish dogs, coil like snails, waiting the enemy to strike.
The foolish dogs, are the master’s pride,
They are petted like delicate glassed golden dolls,
The foolish dogs, die in their kennels, when the enemy returns.
The foolish dogs, have a plausible sense of smell,
They can smell saucers a kilometer away,
But not the blood lust of the enemy’s breath to their nosetrills,
The foolish dogs, that bark and never bite,
Always chase after the enemy has gone,
The foolish dogs, die in their kennels, when the enemy strikes.
We should teach the chimpanzees to read
the names of certain things. Objects like tools
for instance
then label the tools: hammer, saw, axe,
screwdriver etcetera, then screws and nails.
Teach them just enough words to know
a pickaxe from a pencil…just a few practical words
for practical applications, not too many,
otherwise they might turn into poets,
and god-knows we don’t need anymore of that.
The chimps could build dog kennels for dogs,
shelves for their tools. Park benches for
other more elderly chimps.
They will, of course have no use for words
like romance, religion and politics.
If they wanted to fight among themselves
(as chimps often do),
they could simply go back to grunting,
screaming and throwing sticks at each other,
as we used to.
I might have made a miscalculation,
maybe tools for low-tech apes
eventually leads to holocausts and Hiroshima.
Perhaps after all,
we will just teach them how to write poetry
for those who prefer their muse
to scream and grunt a bit.
Then maybe we can start on the dogs and cats;
force them to play the piano for a living.
Dog Master
By
Kevin L Fairbrother
Fifty dogs all different in size and shape
Impossible to tell the type of breed, mate
All the dogs have a discriptive and unique name
Irene, knows them all, for none are the same
…
Only Irene can handle and work this team of dogs
They trust and respect her in the paddock, bush and bogs
Their home in the bush a stone throw from the house
Made of tin, steel and hollow logs free of louse
…
Heading, gathering or pushing in the paddocks
In the yard, on the sheep's back, the dogs are no hicks
Commands yelled out amid the noisy barking
The dog master Irene gets the job done, she is king
…
The hounds on the hill get excited and start baying
The rousers stretch their leads in the air they spring
The horse all saddled, the men go forth with guns
Time for a Kangaroo hunt down by the creek run
…
The dogs search for sheep on the plains and hills
They gather, they drive never fearing the terrain or spills
In weather of heat, snow, cold winds or driving rain
They push the mob towards their master, Irene
…
The sheep yard-ed the dogs job is done
Head for home, horse, rider and dogs as one
All the dogs patted when the chains done up
Given a feed of kangaroo and water to warm-up
…
Snug in their kennels, worn out and asleep
Oblivious to the howling wind, cold and sleet
The dogs resting for their work is never done
As their master, Irene heads home on the run
My uncle said he’d seen a dog,
Come down his path one day.
But not aware who’s dog this was,
He shouted, “Go Away!”
The dog looked up at him, then left,
It ‘faded’ out of sight.
He then knew who his guest had been,
This dog was black as night.
This was the dog that visits us,
At times when death is near.
To help guide those who leave this life,
The ones that we hold dear.
While walking down her garden path,
My auntie died next day.
The warning that my uncle had,
He’d tried to turn away.
An operation had gone wrong,
Our daughter was in pain.
Nothing that the doctors knew,
Could make her well again.
Then when we visited one night,
We shuddered when she said.
A big black dog was also there,
And playing ‘round her bed.
But she seemed a little stronger,
Though we knew whom she had seen.
We thought he’d told of someone else,
And wondered why he’d been.
Alas, it wasn’t meant that way,
That week our daughter died.
I know within my heart of hearts,
Our dog would be her guide.
For many years he’d not been seen
Though others close have died.
Maybe, he only comes to those,
Who need him by their side.
When sitting in a meeting room,
A stranger came to me,
And said he had a message,
About something he could see.
Two dogs he said, were by my side,
Both looked as black as night.
Although the little one looked old,
His fur was tinged with white.
Again I shrugged this message off,
I didn’t think at all.
But while we were on holiday,
We got that dreadful call.
Our ‘Lucky’ had just had a stroke,
Our son was going ‘round.
But when he reached the kennels,
Just his earthly shell he found.
Three times within our memory,
Our spirit dog’s appeared,
To warn us of the saddest things,
That we have ever feared.
But though he is an omen,
That we’ll lose someone we love,
It comforts us to truly know,
He’ll guide their path above.
This dog had been my grandma’s dog,
I knew till I was five.
But now she’s living proof to us,
That all our souls survive.
Ivor G Davies
The fire is blazing behind the hill and the animals are running wild in the street pushing the traffic in another direction.
Clouds of dust emerge from the sky sending particles flying in the air, landing on roof tops and engulfing the entire avenue, while the village people looked on with curiosity as the fire burn deep into their dignity.
Screams and shouts bellow from the village floor and you can hear the banging on the doors, the cry for help sound the alarm but soon or later the voice gets softer, and the sound fades and death takes the body away.
The fire continues to rage in the hills, melting everything in its path, pulling down powerline and trapping the canine its it kennels. It had nowhere to go, and the fire penetrates it from the head and in five second the dog was dead.
What curse lies in the village gate, what curse the ancestors have made, they are coming to life again and you must meet them on the other side.
The evening’s gets blacker, and the village gets emptier, and the people kept moving away from the disastrous place with salvage bundles on their head; everyone moves about in frenzy without a proper destination.
The exodus moves to the west and another group moves to the south and the exodus began to shout and the bucket is full to the brim. No water in the stream to water the northern dreams. No water in the fountain to water the Nothern mountain but they journey on, and destiny leads them on.
The thick black smoke ran a marathon up the hill burning everything and took down the entire village: I could feel the heat inside as it drew close to my side.
The fire is burning in my soul and my spirit is out of control. A spark of hope fell in the grass and sets my mind on fire, water could not put it out, but love watches it smolder to the ground and destiny held it in place to win the final big race.
The fire inside my heart continues to burn and the fire in my mind continues to ignite the entire town, the call came just in time and destiny brought us together.
The world in the first place
may say let do something:
May be thus it will suggest
a plan
or find something hard like
iron or metal to forge
and start forging
or think then say fire is good
to mould most especially
when intenser is the
smoke.
Or it's youth may start burying anything like seeds of corn
and beans and pear kennels
and a lot things more
and fair
for they may say tis the
beggening of the deal.
Now, what is even wrong
the world peaking in follies
and cracking jokes and riddles
who said varla yonder green in brown or brown in green
for instance?.
-- Just a bit of silliness --
"Baissez le rideau, la farce est jouee..."
---- Daumier
39 & 1/2 days had passed;
the rain had lessened.
Noah, grungy and grumpy,
paced the wet deck
like a caged Lion of Judah.
Reading the Odyssey by blubber-light,
Jonah, a free-thinker, cruised
in his whale below; he marveled,
captainishly, carefully pronouncing
the unfamiliar Greek, an uninvented
tongue he couldn't speak.
Ham, an adherent to all the dietary
restrictions, was relieved
at the journey's almost-close.
Consultation of the Holy Books
had proved he wasn't kosher
and, therefore, could not be served.
Still, Shem and Japhet eyed him oddly.
They had a lean and hungry look.
The wives, sensible lot,
cleaned the kennels, did the chores
and tried to keep an even keel
in the anachronistic mess.
They drifted onward,
tired of fishing fruitless waters,
doubtful now of being made
fishers of men.
All things considered, it was
a perfectly normal situation:
men were mystics
and women staid and sturdy workers.
And yet, Ararat, still beneath the waters,
may not have been the only futuristic
structure in this grey, flat
seascape.